


Saints of Summer

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [42]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fourth of July, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: The Saints celebrate the heat of summer with a huge block party that holds more than a few surprises for everyone.





	

**Saints of Summer**

**-1-**

Troy slid behind her, his fingers brushing the shape of her bottom as he squeezed through the throng of people. With the second step, his fingertips dipped to graze her bare thighs. Her hair hit him in the face as her head snapped to the side in surprise. His smile was broad and his chuckle quiet as he made his way across the nave to the keg on the other side of the room. Quickly returning her attention to Peaches, Furia hoped no one noticed her reaction, but with the quick way the other woman continued her diatribe it seemed she’d missed it entirely.

The drone of her friend’s voice allowed Furia the freedom to plan retaliation, which began with the undoing of a few buttons. She gathered up the tails of the button-down shirt with care and tied them high around her ribs.

She caught sight of his smirk over the edge of his purple plastic cup. If that was any indication, her wardrobe revision captured might just be the reason for the extra bit of attention. Of course, his wasn’t the only eye she’d grabbed with the switch.

Marco’s cologne punched her in the gut before he got within ten feet. With a wrinkle of her nose, she shifted, cocking her hip and quirking her brow in a way that should only be taken as unwelcoming. Or at least it would have been perceived as such by anyone but Marco.

“Ay mamí tu tan caliente,” he crooned, leaning back in that odd swagger he had whenever he hit on her. It was like he thought leading with his cock was going to make her swoon. But she’d seen larger, more impressive pieces of hardware in the spark plug aisle of Samson’s shop. “When you going to dance with me?”

Even Peaches glared at him.

“When you steal some rhythm from the Lopez brothers,” she countered.

A few people around them covered their mouths and oohed loudly.

He didn’t take it as a warning, instead he inched closer, his hand grazing her arm before finding her hand. “Don’t be like that.” He squeezed her hand and pulled it toward his mouth.

Furia freed her digits before he planted his chapped lips against her skin. “It’s worked wonders for me so far. Why change now?” With that, she turned on her heel, her head snapping in a way that made her hair whirl around her shoulders as she and Peaches made for the door.

“You know you ain’t all that, conchita[i].”

Furia smirked and turned. “Then why you still trying to hit this?” She punctuated the statement with a little dipping shimmy, only for emphasis.

“Pelotas michinados[ii],” Peaches added with a sad shake of her head.

The two of them weren’t the only ones who laughed. Marco’s eyes narrowed at them and he started to storm toward them. Furia turned and squared her shoulders, her demeanor changing completely. Memo and Troy appeared between the women and their pursuer.

“I told you to lay off my sister, Marco,” Memo noted, a big paw pressed into the center of the smaller man’s chest.

“Símon, guess if you can’t keep it in your zipper you gotta keep it in your sister. Ay, cabrón.”

In smooth, fluid movements, Furia rounded the two men who incorrectly felt the need to insert themselves into something not their business. She needed neither their protection, nor their interference. Before either of them could react to her return, she slammed a fist into Marco’s cheek. He went down like a sack of potatoes. She pulled her foot back for a powerful kick aimed at his ribs.

 

**-2-**

Troy launched himself at Furia, wrapping his arms around her and trying his damnedest to pull her away from Memo and Marco. She shrieked at the man on the floor, deriding him in Spanish and alternately spitting at him. He figured she was cursing a blue streak, but he had no clue what she was saying. To his ears, except for her tone, which was clearly irate, it almost sounded kind of hot with the smooth vowels and rolling trills.

All in all, it was a display like few he’d seen. Usually there was a calm reserve to her, but Marco set her off in a way he never would have imagined. It proved harder to steer her away than he planned, because she wasn’t willing to just walk away. Her hands wrapped around his upper arms and she tried to push the two of them back into range of Marco. He hadn’t seen her that hyped for a scuffle in months. He loosened his grip and she seemed to go with it for a moment, until he ducked and scooped her over his shoulder. With a little screech, the Spanish turned his direction, or so he guessed when she smacked him on the back and tried to knee him in the chest.

Once in his office, with the door closed behind them, Troy dropped her onto the edge of his desk and tried to keep her there.

“Furia,” he said seriously.

She stilled and glared at him.

“I’m not letting you turn a celebration into a brawl.”

“Me?” she screamed, then gestured toward the corner. “He came up on me. He called me a cunt—”

“He what?”

“Conchita,” she spat. “It means cunt. You really need to learn some Spanish, cabrón. Even if it’s just a little slang. Pinche gringo.”

“Hey, now! You don’t need to go after me for trying to keep the peace.”

“Then you should have gone after that ass hat, not drag me off for a lecture.”

Troy leaned forward, pressing his knuckles against the wood of the desk. “Maybe a lecture’s not why I dragged you off.”

Furia eyed him for a long moment before pushing roughly at his shoulders and making that disapproving tsk sound with her tongue as she looked away. With narrowed eyes, she crossed her arms defiantly. “I’m not blowing you in your office.”

He laughed, inching closer. “That’s not why either.”

Mirroring his movements, she leaned back a little and her head turning back toward him, but only slightly. “Then why?”

“I didn’t want that idiot to ruin your day. Figured bringing you back here might give Memo and Gat enough time to clear Marco out,” he said. His eyes stayed on hers until she smiled, then he let his gaze moved over her methodically. “Plus, in here, I can better admire your fashion change,” he added as his fingers trailed along the slope of her waist. Their trail dropped and circled her belly button before following the button fly of her Daisy Dukes. His fingertips brushed down her inner thighs with a light ethereal touch that circled until he felt goosebumps rise.

“So, you like the extra skin?” Her voice held that purr that ramped up his libido.

He smiled at her and she smiled back. It seemed like a simple explanation paired with a bit of distraction might just have reversed her mood. He pressed two fingers under her chin, pulling forward lightly. To his pleasant surprise, she moved toward him and he brushed a soft kiss upon her lips. “Babe, you could be wearing a snowsuit and I’d still be hard enough to hunt with,” Troy replied.

Furia’s laughter broke whatever mood there might have been. “¿En serio? Seriously?” she translated for him.

“What?”

“That’s _so_ smooth. Let me tell you. I’m just moist at the thought of you clubbing me over the head with it and dragging me back to your cave. Neanderthal,” she replied, managing to slip off the edge of the desk and out of his makeshift body cage.

“Furia.”

“You and fucking Marco must have gone to the same class on how _not_ to pick up women.”

 

**-3-**

Furia stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. “Hard enough to hunt with,” she muttered. “Really sexy.”

“What’s really sexy?” Mikey asked.

At the sound of his voice, Furia turned and noticed him leaning against the wall. She stepped closer, which made the kid straighten. Her voice was low, almost secretive as she gave him a warning for the future. “Do not ever try to woo Peaches by telling her she makes you hard enough to hunt with. Totally not hot.” She poked him hard in the chest with each word of the last sentence.

“Oh-kay,” he replied, drawing out the syllables while rubbing the soreness left behind by her finger jabs.

She stormed off, heading for the courtyard where the grilling was happening. The music, which had been muffled in the nave, blared outside the church. From the looks of it, at least half the neighborhood crashed the Saints’ barbecue. Not that anyone minded. Surely someone would just grab more burgers and dogs to make sure everyone got something to eat.

Furia couldn’t help but smile when she noticed someone in huge shades, a ball cap, and an unzipped sweatshirt with the hood up. It might have been out of place, but for the dozen other girls rocking the same look.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said by way of greeting as she took up the empty lawn chair next to the mysterious party-goer.

“Hey, you!” Aisha answered.

The two of them leaned toward one another exchanging cheek kisses. “Wasn’t expecting to see you out and about.”

“Thought maybe I’d try it and see what happened.” Aisha said quietly, as she leaned close to her friend speaking low.

“And what if someone …” Furia didn’t finish her statement, lest someone overhear and catch on.

Aisha shrugged. “Then I’d run home and everyone would think that person was off their rocker. Hopefully, people would chalk it up to an Elvis sighting type of thing.”

“At least you had a plan, half-assed as it may be.”

The other woman pushed at Furia’s shoulder. “What about you?” she asked, gesturing behind Furia with her chin.

Glancing in the indicated direction, Furia noticed Troy and Johnny talking. Well, Johnny was telling him something and Troy was looking at her. Furia groaned and turned back to Aisha. “Don’t even.”

She must have looked as disgusted as she felt. “What the hell happened? I thought you two were love shackin’ it up.”

Furia fell back against the lawn chair, folding her arms over her chest and crossing her legs. She could even feel the pout on her lips. “Only when he’s not quoting caveman pick-up lines.”

“Oh, do tell.” Aisha looked positively giddy at the prospect.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same.”

“Damn, it must have been good.”

“Appalling is more like it.”

Aisha cackled with glee, pulling her knees to her chest as she reveled in Furia’s pain. Though she pouted about it all, Furia probably would have reacted the same way if their positions were reversed, and they had been more than once. Johnny wasn’t Mr. Smooth at every turn either, according to Aisha.

She hazarded another glance at Troy. He was still looking at her and when she looked back at him, he shoved his hands into his jeans. The sheepish look he gave her said it all. He’d apologize as soon as she’d let him get close enough to do it. More than likely he’d offer to make up for it somehow, probably something spicy or maybe dark chocolate and caramel. Thinking about it, the line he’d used made her cringe again, though the sentiment he aimed for wasn’t completely abhorrent—it was good to know that what she wore wasn’t the catalyst of his interest.

 

**-4-**

Everyone gathered in the courtyard and on the sidewalks around the church to watch the fireworks. Troy managed to squeeze through the throng and find himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Furia. He bumped her gently, and she looked at him.

 _Sorry_ , he mouthed in the crackling light of a red explosion in the air.

Her ruby lips looked purple in the shadows of the night. They pursed as she stared at him. Then her features softened. _Me, too._

Relief spread through him, easing the tension in his chest and shoulders. _Let me make it up to you._

Furia shook her head. _No need._

Troy smiled at her as everyone in the courtyard whooped and yelled at the top of their lungs. They both looked up in time to catch sight of the sparkling purple fleur de lis fading into the brackish night sky.

“Hell fucking yeah!” someone in the crowd yelled above the other voices.

Furia just smiled.

When his fingers brushed the back of her thigh, she looked at him again, still wearing that proud grin. If he had to guess, she had something to do with sneaking that into the Stilwater Municipal fireworks display.

Her face turned skyward again, and he felt her hand on his leg inching carefully so as not to draw the attention of anyone standing around them. It made Troy bolder and his touch cruised toward the hem of her shorts. God, did he want to drag her out of there, if only just to kiss her and whisper his apology in her ear. Ask her to forgive him for being an idiot, even if it seemed she already had.

The creeping touch of her hand made him immensely glad he was wearing jeans. The thick denim stole some of the effect, though his mind didn’t let physics disrupt the feeling. Even if the sensation was dull in reality, his mind replaced it with the very clear memory of just the same type of movement. Despite the way the heat of the afternoon lingered in the humid air, compounded by the throng of bodies, he shivered when her nails skimmed the fabric.

It was all he could do to force the memory of the last time he felt her fingertips on his bare thighs out of his mind. At a clear disadvantage, Troy tried to remain sly, drawing an ethereal touch over the backs of her legs until he felt them quiver. When the image of Furia looking up at him with a Cheshire cat grin and fire in her eyes flashed in his head, his other than reached out and grabbed her wrist.

He saw more than heard her chuckle—the wide grin, the dancing twinkle in her eyes, and the gentle shake of her shoulders. When she crossed her arms over her chest, Troy decided to follow suit. After ghosting his hand over her thigh once more, he reluctantly tucked his hand in the crook of his elbow as he folded his arms.

While she watched the fireworks, he stole glances at her. His palms itched to touch her. A tingle passed over his lips at the prospect of sealing them against hers. _Goddamn, you_ _’re hopeless_ , he thought. Her shoulder bumped his and he noticed her sidelong glance and traces of her smile around her eyes even from his poor vantage point.

Troy had already lost the battle against his desire for her. Seemed he was destined to lose more than his mind. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to fall for her, he thought.

* * *

 

[i] Diminutive form of cunt (little cunt)

[ii] Blue balls

**Author's Note:**

> Combined two prompts—(1) 2014.07.04 Furia / Troy: How did they spend the 4th of July together? (elev8dashzerothree) (2) 2014.07.21 Furia / Troy: Anything involving the secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces (Chyrstis)


End file.
